


Fifteen Little Words

by InterNutter



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Changing Soulmate Marks AU, Destiny, F/M, Fuck Sazed (The Adventure Zone), Hubris, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Sazed content, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, True Love, memeing, scared of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-23 15:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15609183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterNutter/pseuds/InterNutter
Summary: Istus cares for us. Istus looks after us. She makes sure we'll know when we find our soulmate, because their first words to us are there on our bodies. The closer they are to the heart, the longer the match will last.Kravitz is born with unformed blobs. The words on Taako's arms are silver-grey and crossed out. Both think this is a cruel joke on them by the Gods.And then they discover that their soulmate marks are UPDATING...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Adventure Zone in general and the Balance Arc in particular belong to the Brothers McElroy and also Dad McElroy. I just can’t stop messing with it.
> 
> Additional Info: Welcome to the mandatory Soulmate Marks AU. Strap in tight.

When Kravitz first entered the world of the living, he was born with fifteen rainbow splotches randomly arranged on his upper left arm. A good sign. Their proximity to his heart indicated that whoever his soulmate would be, it would be a lifelong match. The splotches also mean that his match hadn’t yet been born. That’s nothing new. Istus generally saw to it that a match was born within a reasonable amount of time.

A year passed. Two. Five. The blotches remained as they were and Kravitz was old enough to be told the facts of life.

_ Istus looks after us, _ they said.  _ She sees to it that destined relationships are never to be missed. So she lets us know how we will know the one we match. _ And the code of Istus’ brands was explained.

Unformed blobs like his mean that his match has yet to be born. When his match is born, the blobs will turn into a jagged line. Istus’ brands will itch the very moment they change. Nobody yet knows what the jagged line means, but some say it is sound written in a format that none can yet read.

Kravitz checked his blobs every morning, to see if they changed in the night. He despised every mosquito or biting insect that makes his left arm itch.

_ When your match learns to write, you will see their first words to you. _

More years passed. And Kravitz’ marks don’t change. Other kids his age start calling him names.  _ Baby-thief, _ and,  _ cradle-robber. _ Adults looking at his arm start tutting amongst themselves and Kravitz learns to fear a word.  _ Paedophile. _

Puberty smacks him with the realisation that he is gay. And though he loves those who are also physically mature, his marks still do not change. He covers them up. Shirts that won’t show them, even if he gets wet. He bathes alone. He never swims with anyone.

Kravitz prays daily,  _ Please, mighty Istus, controller of our fates. Please don’t let me become a creepy old man with a child for a match... _

He falls in love with a boy his age, who doesn’t love him back. A boy with hair like fire and skin dappled like a fawn’s. A boy with no match, who should be eager to find even a temporary love.

But such is not the case.

Winter comes, and never leaves. Blame turns to demons, and a bard with hope for love is betrayed to his death by a superstition that never would have worked.

Kravitz died at the coldest hour of the coldest day of the year. He fled from the Raven Queen in terror. Begged for one summer.

He watched his village die.

And when summer came, he couldn’t feel it.

And  _ still, _ the marks on his arm remained unchanged.

* * *

 

_ Thousands of years and a hundred worlds from then... _

Lulu came out breach, holding fast to a twin’s hand. A good omen. Twins were incredibly good luck, and he needed that much. And even better luck, Lulu was born with blotches on the left arm. High up and close to the heart. A life match.

Lulu cried and cried and  _ cried, _ red-faced and angry at the world. Refusing to take the teat. For forty-five minutes. Until Koko was born four minutes into the next day, and his tiny little hand was returned to Lulu’s grasp.

He didn’t know what to make of that omen. Nor the fact that Koko seemingly didn’t  _ have _ an Istus brand. But it got worse. When the blood and birth grime is rubbed off of Koko, Istus’ brand is silver. The words are crossed out. And worse, there is a profanity on Koko’s left arm.

_ What the fuck is wrong with the three of you? _

Words of someone who had died.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. Twins were supposed to be fortuitous. He’d married into a family where twins ran strong. Just so he could borrow on their good fortune. Producing twins of his own should have been wonderful.

But it wasn’t.

One had a match yet to be born, and the other had a match who had already died.

As Lulu and Koko flourished and grew strong, he had his answer. These twins had golden hair when he and his wife were both dark of hair.

These twins weren’t his.

And when their eyes stopped being Newborn Blue, he had a further revelation.

These witch-eyed bastards were  _ demons. _

The worst luck.

So he left. And good riddance to all of them.

* * *

 

_ A hundred worlds away… _

Kravitz was filing paperwork and dandling one of the Raven Queen’s children on one knee. For all that people assumed that the Astral Plane was empty and dismal, it wasn’t. The Raven Queen loved children and hated those who would sacrifice them in her name. So she gave those tiny souls life in this realm. Time that they should have had in life. A chance to grow up. And when they were grown, they trained to become Reapers.

He was sworn to the Queen after death. These other Reapers, like him, took up the scythe and hunted down necromancers in the Prime Material Plane. Preferably before they could sacrifice any more children to the Raven Queen.

Today, he had paperwork. The Raven Queen insisted that every soul was accounted for. And that paperwork was made difficult by the itching on his left bicep. On a place where an itch he’d been waiting for hadn’t happened for the better part of two thousand years.

When his brain caught up with that fact, he put his latest sister down so he could peel aside his coat and shirt so he could see.

His match… had just been born. Whoever they were had just taken their first breath. And the colourful splotches had transformed into a line with fifteen jagged curves.

Kravitz wanted to weep. Somewhere out there was a baby with silver-grey, crossed-out words on their body. Somewhere out there, a child was going to grow up thinking that they would never know their match. Somewhere out there, his match was going to be told that  _ their _ match was dead. And there was nothing to be done.

Kravitz wanted to fight. He wanted to punch Istus. But by the time he reached the Goddess, he just wanted to yell at her.

“Here he comes now,” she said. Knitting on automatic, but otherwise paying attention to Kravitz.

His clothing was still askew. Istus, the Raven Queen, and any number of Death’s Children could see what had finally happened. “Where’s the baby?” he demanded. “Where’s the poor little creature that has my words greyed out on their body? Where are they?”

Istus said, “I don’t know. Their threads aren’t in my work…” but she could see how his brand had changed.

“Is this funny?” Kravitz demanded. “Is a joke for you?” Tears fell despite his fury. “Why would you do this to anyone?”

Istus was weeping, too. “This was not my intent,” she said, “But your marks should not be changing… unless you are still going to hear those words.”

Cold comfort, of course. “And then what?” Kravitz demanded. “I kill them? I’m a Reaper. The only mortals I meet are doomed to become prisoners in the eternal stockade. What use is a lifelong bond if that life is only a few seconds more?”

Istus left her seat and her knitting to lay a careful finger on the line his blotches had become. “Their threads aren’t… they’re not here… I don’t understand…”

“That makes two of us,” snapped Kravitz.

In six years, it would make even less sense.

* * *

 

Koko learned to read Common from his Aunty Ques’ cookbooks. Cooking was magic and Aunty read out loud as they worked together in the warm kitchen, fending off the chill of winter and defying the snow outside.

This Candlenights, he wanted to do something special for his whole family. Aunt and Uncles and Mama too. He had four pieces of paper, and he was doing his best with his colours. A family portrait.

Two small Elven stick-figures holding hands between Mama and Aunt Ques and Uncles Tortie and Ench. Each with their houses above them and a winding road underneath them and a happy sun and happy trees and happy faces.

He’d read words, before. Now he wanted words on the paper.

Koko picked up the happiest crayon (bright pink) and began to draw letters.

M-A-M-A and L-U-L-U and K-O-K-O and A-N-T K-W-E-S-S (he wasn’t up on spelling yet) and U-N-K-L T-O-R-T-E-E and U-N-K-L E-N-T-S-H.

Nailed it.

And then, with as much care and attention to detail as he could muster, Koko made three other copies.

Yes. This was the best thing he had ever done in his whole life. And the proof was in how that picture was framed and in every house he lived in for the rest of his time in Tre Llew-Ddion.

What he didn’t know at this point that that was just a little under six more years.


	2. Chapter 2

Kravitz was trying to listen to the briefing. It seemed like the usual stuff. An order of necromancers was violating the laws of life and death. Again. This lot were turning members into liches once they reached a certain level. Some were sacrificing children to the Raven Queen, which always pissed her off.

And then his left arm started itching. Distractingly hard. As if his absent soulmate was etching his arm with discomfort.

His Queen noticed him and said, “Go take ten minutes, Kravitz. The others can see to this one at the start.”

He was mortified as well as furious. He fled the briefing  in skeleton form so that none of the other Reapers could see him blushing. Away from the Eternal Stockade. Away from the Palace of the Raven Queen. Away from the playlands where the children unwisely sacrificed to he Raven Queen are given an idyllic respite from the cruel world that abandoned them, and a mother who would never betray them in the form of the Raven Queen herself, and a life they could not live in the mortal world. Away from all of it, to the furthest reaches where uninhabited firmament pokes out of the Sea of Souls.

Only there, far from most prying eyes, did Kravitz unwrap his upper body, and manifest his flesh anew.

The jagged line was crude letters with best-guess spelling. Still in the rainbow hues of a child. Not yet an adult. Not yet ready for a real relationship that becoming a Soulmate would mean.

Fifteen words.

_ Hael and wel met. Mi names Taako and yu luk lyk yur maed uv salt. _

Just.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

“What?” he said out loud. Phonetic spelling. Which meant that his missing soulmate hadn’t learned to spell. And judging for what passed as penmanship, they had just barely figured out how to write.

He knew that it was rare for an Istus Brand to have the Soulmate’s name in their first words. So very few had to introduce themselves like that.

But all the same…

Made of  _ salt? _

What the actual  _ fuck _ was all that about?

Istus couldn’t help. This was all a new turn of events to her. She kept insisting that these changing marks meant that Kravitz would meet his soulmate. Eventually. But she also insisted that that soulmate somehow didn’t exist.

It was both baffling and infuriating.

* * *

 

Lulu had figured out reading out loud. Sounding things out. And since it was summer, both the twins had taken to running around the neighbourhood in their britches. Though Lulu had begun covering up their chest when anyone else was around.

Today, though, they were miles away from anyone who might throw rocks at them. And Lulu turned their attention to Koko’s left arm. Turning their head so they could read the loopy cursive words.

“Wu… hat. Tuh… heh...:”

“The,” corrected Koko. Lulu lorded it over him for everything else, including the forty-five minutes and technically a day that separated them from  _ oldest _ and  _ youngest. _ Koko only had being better at reading to hold over his twin. “A T plus an H make a ‘th’ sound.”

“The,” said Lulu. “F… fuh…”

“Oh no you don’t!” Mama arrived with tunics. Madda-dyed linen. “Both of you. Tunics on. Lulu… don’t you dare read your brother’s words, that’s torment.”

“Why?”

Mama bit her bottom lip. She got real sad eyes. “Those marks on Koko… they’re grey and crossed out because… well… because Koko’s soulmate has already passed.”

“Passed what?”

“Passed where?”

Tears, now. The twins hated to make their mother cry. She had so much to be sad about already. “Passed beyond. Koko… Koko, your soulmate’s died. I’m sorry. You won’t be alone your whole life, but… you won’t have anyone special, either.”

“What do mine, mean, Mama?” asked Lulu. “Howcome we’re so different?”

“Your soulmate’s still waiting to be born, Lulu. And that’s just as okay as Koko’s marks. You both have long lives ahead of you and equal opportunities to be happy.”

“I don’t need a dumb ole soulmate,” said Koko. “I got Lulu. We’re gonna be together  _ forever.” _

“Yeah,” said Lulu. “Someone has to look after my dumb baby brother.”

Mama headed off  _ that _ argument with, “Enough. It’s time for lunch. You two boys need some good food for those growing bones.”

And Lulu said, “I’m not a boy, I’m a girl.”

Without missing a beat, Mama said, “Okay. You  _ kids _ need some good food for your growing bones.”

* * *

 

The clumsy crayon changed slowly, year by year, into careful printing, and then a mal-adaption of cursive. His missing soulmate was getting a very spotty education. But at least their spelling had improved.

_ Hail and well met. My name’s Taako and you look like you’re made of salt. _

Legibility had not improved the meaning. At all. How, when and why could that possibly even happen?

It was pointless asking Istus. Even if she _ did _ know, her only answer would be 'spoilers’.

Fucking goddess of destiny…

* * *

 

_ T-minus forty-nine years, more or less..  _

Another badger burrow. Another silence spell. Another night of wet, cold, and hunger. The twins clung to each other and used Koko’s soiled cloak as ersatz camouflage. They could hear the hunters, but the hunters couldn't hear them. But they were still close enough to use their passive perception if either of them moved.

Lulu was making a face. Subtly attempting to rub her left arm on a random tree root.

Koko's hand was closer to her arm, so he did her scratching for her.

That look of relief may pay his freedom in whatever hell Elves like them were overdue for.

Only once the hunters were gone could she move enough to check what caused the itch.

Her blobs had turned into a jagged line.

Koko, who had had his words grey and lifeless from birth, smiled anyway.

“Grats,” he said. “Yours just got born.”

“Ninety-seven is kind of a big age Gap,” she allowed.

“Better than dead,” said Koko. In his well-practiced stop-complaining voice.

Lulu pulled her lips inside her mouth. Winced. She knew, as well as he, that he regularly got money begging when the people with money could see the silver-grey words on his left arm. Well. Most of the words. Koko kept that curse well covered. The most anyone else but Lulu saw of his words was “... _ ng with the three of you?” _

But it was enough for people to pity him, and give them money. And some days, days like this one, that was enough to keep them alive.

Lulu leaned over and kissed his brow. “I’m sorry, bro,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t bitch.”

“I don’t need ‘em. I got you.”

It was a lie. He knew it. She knew it. But it was a lie he’d told almost their whole lives, and so far, it was the truth.

Then another voice said, “Got you!” and they were seized by the scruffs of their necks.

* * *

 

_ T-minus forty-four years. _

As far as rehab centres went, this was one of the better ones. They didn’t separate families and were sensitive to the needs of Elves who had -strictly off the top of Taako’s head and not being specific at all- had survived Saint Vingo’s with more than a few mental scars.

And, even better, it didn’t kick them out of the system the instant they were deemed adults and expected to cope as a regular member of society.

Taako, now one hundred and one and officially an adult, was helping himself to any class he could understand. He excelled at cooking, of course, and was learning some of the finer points of  _ finesse _ at some of it. He basically went to the science classes to keep Lup company. Trust her to be into the nerd stuff.

Today, he was scratching her left arm for her while she took notes. He could feel the phantom discomfort like a tickle in his own arm, and therefore knew exactly where to really dig in to help Lup keep going.

Finally, they were dismissed for free time, and Lup hauled her coat open to read the clumsy lettering.

Taako, reading it with her, had to wonder, “Is it a foreign language?”

“No… I think they’re just tongue tied. Look.  _ Heterochromia. Cool. _ Those are real words in Common.”

“Observant,” Taako snarked. “Got yourself a real winner, there,” he taunted.

She shrugged. “Better than dead.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The path of true BlupJeans is long and rocky. I just did the highlights.

_ T-minus twenty years. _

Neverwinter University. Taako still felt like an imposter here, and worked nights in the cafeteria kitchen. Because having a job meant that he could pay for Lup’s degree if they ever decided to kick them off the scholarship grant.

He still followed the tactic of studying everything he could understand until they realised what a dope he was and he never understood the soaring marks that came back on his papers. At least he knew that he couldn’t fail  _ Kitchen _ and worked his butt off at it.

It was one such sweep at bussing the tables that the Dwarf found him.

“Hey, young fella. You work here?”

“No, I like to dress up like this and bus tables for funsies,” he rounded on the Dwarf. “Of course I work here. Whaddaya need?”

He laughed, which was not the usual response to his sarcasm. He had flowers in his hair and a tree of life pinned to his bright red coat. He looked like the kind of fellow who would much rather be wearing board shorts on the beach. “Well, wise-ass, I’m looking for some kid named…” he squinted at a page, “Tay… ta-ah…”

“Taako?” Taako guessed. “No idea where he is. Have you asked his twin sister?”

“Are there a lot of twinned Elves around here?” he asked, “Cause the lady who looked  _ just _ like you said I should ask her twin  _ brother…” _ And then he read Taako’s name-tag and the penny dropped like a meteor. He laughed again. “Right. I’m being sassed by a couple of kids. Typical. Typical…”

Taako got the giggles even as he picked up the dirty plates and trays. “Not a lot of chances for fun around here. Lup and I get mistaken for each other a lot, so…”

The double doors to the cafeteria burst open as Lup barrelled through them like she’d been thrown. “TAAKO!” She hollered, colliding with several pieces of furniture along the way. “HOLY FUCK!”

“Hold these a sec’,” said Taako, handing the Dwarf the plates before he fielded his sister. “Whoa. Whoa. Hold it. Hold up. Are they kicking us out?”

“No. It’s. Holy shit. Holy shit. I can’t-- I dunno-- It’s not--”

“Deep breaths, Lulu.” He coached her.

“It’s  _ happened, _ Koko. It’s actually  _ happened.” _

Taako checked the words on her left elbow. Sure enough, the visible  _ ool. _ had turned gold.  “Get their name? Or did you just freak out and come running for your family?”

_ “It’s Professor fucking Hallwinter, Koko!” _

Taako attempted to fit Professor dry-as-the-stick-up-his-ass Hallwinter and his sister in the same reality. Nope. Couldn’t do it. “Maybe--”

“HE was scratching his arm as I asked about the theory of multiplanar navigation, Ko. He was  _ scratching his arm by the word.” _

The Dwarf with the Cleric pin had put down the plates so he could check his clipboard. “Hallwinter… Hallwinter… Yup. He’s on the list, too.”

Lup had devolved to panicking in _Us._ _“There’s a list, Koko. Oh my deaf Gods, there’s a fucking list! We’re on a list! He and I are on a fucking LIST!”_

Taako held her close and purred softly in her ear, rocking her as she freaked out into his shoulder. He took a moment to say, “Excuse us. Can we meet back here at like, noon tomorrow? I should have her at least sedated by then.”

_ “Hallwinter. Fucking Hallwinter. I can’t even imagine fucking Hallwinter.” _

Taako switched to  _ Us, “Better jump on him fast, sis. He’s a human. You’ve only got like seventy years left. Maybe fifty good ones.” _

The next sound out of Lup was a long, indrawn, gulping sob. Followed closely by abject hysterics. Shit.  _ Now _ he’d stepped in it. They were going to need more than a bottle of Fantasy Grey Goose. He urgently signed to his boss that this was an unfolding family emergency and dragged Lup off to the tiny little student accommodations they shared together. He could conjure her some stiff alcohol and the finest chocolate they knew and maybe a tub of Fantasy Ben&Jerry’s. She’d calm down and maybe actually be coherent by midday tomorrow.

As Taako juggled his sobbing sister to the closest thing to home they had known in ninety-some years, he had to wonder…

What the fuck did the letters  _ IPRE _ on the Dwarf’s uniform coat stand for?

* * *

 

_ Launch plus almost fifty goddamn years… _

Well, well, well. Finally and at last. Professor-turned-Doctor Hallwinter had mellowed since he and Lup had decided to rename him Barry Bluejeans. And Lup had quickly realised that making Barry blush was lots of fun. Sometimes, she could do it by sighing.

They had both studiously avoided each other during the Beach Planet. They didn’t have to see each other’s words on their respective arms to know something was destined.

And now… Now he was watching them finally surrender.

They were no longer student and teacher. Superior or subordinate.

They were equals. Scientists and nerds and fantastically frustrating because both of them decided to use  _ Taako _ as their gods-damned secret keeper.  _ And please don’t tell… I would just die. _

Taako knew this song before he heard a note of it. He’d been living with it in various forms for over fifty fucking years. The anxiety, the longing, the knowing and being terrified… and finally, fucking  _ finally, _ the admitting.

All wrapped up in one glorious melody.

“Fucking finally,” he sighed. He was proud of Lup, really. Fifty years of agelessness had made her wake up to the concept that maybe there wasn’t as much to lose as she feared. And when one is constantly in the aura of two people who were  _ that _ much in love and being idiots about it… well. It was hard not to get frustrated.

And jealous.

But she had him, now. And he had her. And they were happy.

So he could be happy.

He could especially be happy that he would no longer have to keep their secrets for or from either of them.

He celebrated their new union by going out and drinking himself into a stupor. Staring up at the stars.

_ When I finally die for realsies, I am going to fight the Goddesses of Death and Fate both over what they did to me. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Offensensitivity warning: Sazed content. Sazed is seen to be more of a skeezball than in canon. Also, he misgenders Taako.

_ Landing plus four hours… _

“Lup! LUP! Holy  _ fuck!” _ Taako ran into the room she shared with Barry so fast that he made a small dent in the wall opposite the door. “LUUUUUP!”

Her hand emerged from the covers where she had both  _ just _ got warm with Barry and  _ just _ got to sleep. Grabbed her brother by his collar and said, “Someone better be dying or  _ they will be!” _

“Lulu, Lulu, Lulu, Lulu… lookit my marks. Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

Growling, she opened her eyes. The glistening silver-grey of his crossed-out words was no longer crossed out, nor grey. By the faint lavender of Barry’s night light, they were a clear black, shiny like a raven’s wing.

Taako’s soulmate was alive.

“Holy fuck,” she whispered.

Her stupid baby brother was out of his mind with terror. “It’s real, right? It’s really real? It’s  _ there? _ And it’s  _ changed? _ And you can  _ see _ it?”

She put her brother down and used the same hand to caress his bare skin where the words were. It didn’t feel any different from the other millions of times that she’d touched him. Just the unlikely smoothness of his skin. “Looks real to me, babe.”

“That’s not the worst part,” he said. Close to tears. He started scratching the words where they itched and, from end of sentence to beginning, they went from black to grey again. Crossing themselves out as they went. Taako was three breaths away from an out-and-out panic attack. “They’ve done this three times, Lulu. Four. Just.  _ How? _ How’s this work? Why?”

Barry, a comfortable weight in their shared bed, stirred and mumbled, “Wh’sg’win’n?”

“Family emergency, Bar-bear. You sleep. Koko needs hot chocolate, hugs, and some calm time.” She yawned as she extracted herself from the covers. “And a good cry.”

“Tell th’ kids a long st’ry,” he muttered, halfway out of his dreams. “Alw’s works.”

Lup smiled even as she pulled on her Fantasy Sweats and bathrobe, shuffling into her uggs. “Sure, babe.” She hauled Taako to the kitchen and forced him to sit while she whipped up a quick batch of cookie dough and some of the  _ special _ hot chocolate. Cookie dough was one of those things that had always diverted Taako, but it was not diverting him now.

If he breathed any harder or faster, he would pass the fuck out.

So she crammed a big spoon of dough into his mouth so he’d be forced to breathe through his nose. The little nuggets of saltwater taffy she’d thrown in there slowed his chewing, too.

“Let’s slow it down, okay? Deep breaths, bro-bro. Deeeep. Caaaaalm. Breaths. In through the centre,” she demonstrated. “Sail  _ out _ over the pain.”

He scratched his left arm. “How’s this happening? How’s this happening? How’s this  _ happening? _ How’s  _ this _ happening?  _ How’s _ this happening?”

“There, now,  _ there _ now,” she cooed. “Breathe with me, okay? In through the centre…” It took her five goes to get him breathing evenly. “Let’s put all that panic in a sack, for now, okay? We need to think this through logically and rationally.”

How many times had he done this for her? Helped her put her panic or discomfort or rage in a mental sack so they could think through the problem and  _ then _ unleash their emotions where they would do the most damage. She’s lost count.

A shuddering sigh. He partook of a ball of dough and chased it with a sip of hot chocolate. It was the smell and the actual herbs in there that did the work, not the chocolate taste. Not for Koko. All he tasted when he drank was Key Lime Gogurt.

“M’kay,” a deep breath. He was still shaking like a dog in a wet sack. “My soulmate is alternately alive and dead at random moments. The marks pretty much tell me that.”

“Right,” said Lup. “Good. Now. What do we know that’s like that, but without judging?”

Taako clicked as he thought, hands wrapped around his mug. “Uh. Fuck. A lich? Something from the Astral Plane? Something that visits other planes, and hopping through the Astral one is like… a technicality.”

Now that he was thinking, he wasn’t afraid. Lup helped herself to a dough ball. “See? Nothing to be worried about. It just never changed before because you two weren’t both in the same prime material plane.”

And now he had that pole-axed look of utter desperation. “Lulu. This plan of ours has to work. It  _ has _ to. This is- It could- I don’t- It’s my only chance…”

Fuck. If they screwed the pooch on this one, he would be devastated for the rest of however long they had. “I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen, babe,” she vowed, kissing his forehead. “Everything.”

“Thanks,” he held her in a close hug. “I’m gonna remember this forever.”

He didn’t. But it wasn’t his fault.

* * *

 

Sazed had been meaning to use hope to get laid. The beautiful Elf made him horny just by breathing, and having seen the show… Well. Sazed had a cunning plan.

Step one: Sneak up on the Elf while she was busy bathing.

Step two: Get a real good look at what Istus had written on her body.

Step three: Read those words in a convincing manner.

Step four: Start kissing before she notices that his hide is an ignominious blank.

He had managed to creep into the Mudwater Hollow bathhouse. Called, almost predictably,  _ The Mud Bath. _ Once inside, all he had to do was purloin one of the uniforms and pretend he was working there. Taking around fresh towels let him get a look at more flesh than any mortal man could be prepared for. But it was worth it for that sweet Elf ass.

He’d heard gossip that Elven women had little tiny fingers inside their secret coves, and they’d massage your dick while you were in there. He dearly wanted to see if that was true.

He got a good look at the Elf, at last, just as planned. Only there was more than one small flaw.

First: the Elf was a dude. Flat chest. Definite dick. Tight ass, for sure, but not the kind of ass that Sazed was looking for.

Second: the words in beautiful copperplate on the Elf’s left arm was a silvery grey and crossed out.

Third: the Elf noticed him.

“Hi there, beautiful,” he said. “Sneaking in to see if the rumours were true?”

It took Sazed three goes to say, “Towels? I’m bringing in the towels.”

The Elf from the travelling show chuckled as he used a sponge in a manner that could make saints into sinners. “Come on. You and I both know you don’t work here.” And pointed out Sazed’s crotch.

Where a furious erection was raging and unattended.

“People who work here are immune to a naked body. You’re not. Also that uniform doesn’t fit.” Now he was pouring water over himself. No nymph in the stream, no siren at sea, no succubus in the night had the temptation power of a beautiful Elf with an ewer full of soapy water.

Sazed wanted to incinerate on the spot from the power of his own mortification. “IthoughtyouwereagirlbutIwaswrongsoI’lljustrunawayanddienow, thanks.”

One dusky, speckled ear flicked at a sound no Human could hear. “Hide that behind the basin backing and gimmie a shampoo, darling. You’re too pretty for jail.” He dropped to a low murmur, “I can hear the boss coming.”

Sazed ran for the cover of the bath tub, putting something liquid and aromatic into his hands to massage into the Elf’s golden hair.

“Fingertips, sweetie. Fingertips. Little circles...Mmmmmmm…” He was angling his head around, encouraging Sazed to get to certain places.

Sazed rather desperately pretended that he was concentrating on the massage. Prayed desperately that Mrs Sudz wouldn’t call the town guard. Foam soon obliterated the sopping golden river of the Elf’s hair.

“When I get my hands on that doughy peeping tom sonova--” A heavy waterproof apron and a surprisingly stylish pair of wet weather boots appeared at the door. “Oh. Sorry, dearie. We have an intruder.”

The foam was starting to spread.

“Price of being gorgeous,” the Elf dismissed. “It’s all background noise f’r Taako.”

Oh. That was how he pronounced it. Sazed had thought it said ‘tay-ko’ on the side of his Stage Wagon.

“Rutting stripling boys,” said Mrs Sudz, like it was the worst thing to call anyone. She stomped onwards through the maze of bathing rooms and massage chambers. “I’ll have their ears off. I’ll have their toes off. I’d take their peckers, but they ain’t got ones worth findin’...” her diatribe fell out of hearing.

Taako had an interesting giggle. He seized Sazed’s soapy hand and brought him around to where they could talk face to face. “So, darling. Do you have a name, or should I go with Mrs Sudz’s epithets?”

“Ab- un- I- er-”

“Take your time.”

“Buh… uh. Bay… Baker. Sazed Baker.”

A smile that Sazed didn’t want to think about. Like this Taako fellow wanted to see him sprawled on a bed of lettuce. That… didn’t happen between men. Did it? “Very pleased to make your acquaintance. Naughty young man.” He sluiced the foam out of his hair again. “And in my experience, a naughty young man needs a decent job to keep him from being…  _ too _ naughty. Can you math?”

This had to be the most confusing conversation he had ever had with an adult. Another adult. “What?”

“Maths. Mathematics. Addition. Subtraction. Percentages. Business stuff. Credit and debit. Can you do any of that?”

Red as a beet, because he was talking to an ethereally feminine beauty without a stitch on, Sazed said, “I guess. Me Mam taught me double-entry book-keeping and I know me letters ’n’ I can do sums with an abacus.”

“Excellent. You’re hired. Way beyond what I can deal with, anyway. You look like you’re strong enough for the heavy lifting. How are you with driving?”

Sazed shrugged. “Never had no complaints.”

“Perfect. Meet me up at my Stage when I have my clothes on and we can work out something official. Now piss off, I wanna soak.”

Sazed rather wisely decided not to push his luck any further, that afternoon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Offensensitivity Warning: Glamour Springs aftermath depicted, but not in huge detail

Kravitz had no idea why forty people had to die so suddenly, but he was one among the escorts to help those confused souls cross over into the afterlife. There was a lot of wreckage. Bodies strewn about like they had been hit by a foul magic. A burned shell of a Stage Wagon. A lone horse as the only survivor on the scene.

It was because of one lost and wandering soul that he saw it. They were roaming the abandoned campground, looking for their dolly. They had been four. And there, in the flaming wreckage, was a name Kravitz had come to know over two hundred and fifty years.

_ Taako. _

Kravitz helped the soul find their dolly, and helped them through to the Astral Plane. And then, on a whim, checked his book of bounties.

Taako. No last name. Eight deaths and no visit to the Astral Plane. But not responsible for these forty deaths.

Weird.

It couldn’t be.

But it might.

The name on his arm might well be the same fugitive from the Raven Queen on his bounty list. Which was heartbreaking and baffling at the same time.

Heartbreaking because his soul’s match was destined to rot away in the Eternal Stockade. And baffling because this particular bounty had only been on the books for eight years. Along with some others who spontaneously appeared at exactly the same day.

Barry Bluejeans aka Sildar Hallwinter.

Magnus Burnsides.

Lucretia Clarke.

Captain Dru Davenport.

Merle Hitower Highchurch.

Lup, no last name.

And Taako. Also no last name.

All high bounties. All with no other sign of necromantic activity. And until they indulged in any of that, he couldn’t track them with any kind of efficacy.

He saw the last of these wandering souls to the other side and wondered if it was really worth bothering Istus again about the cruel joke she had played on his fate.

* * *

 

Taako was fully ready to hate Lucas Miller’s lab to oblivion. One: the pink tourmaline crystals everywhere. Tacky. Even for him.

While there was nothing wrong with pink, there was such a thing as too much pink. Unless one was -say- an eight-year-old girl and magnetically attracted to the colour. Nothing to be done about that one. Let them have all the pink they could roll around in until they were sick of it. Best cure for the case.

Two: These ridiculous protective suits were ugly. They didn’t even have heels on their boots and Taako couldn’t transmute them without making them vulnerable to the crystals. So he was feeling shorter than normal and pissed off about that.

Three: his left arm kept itching at random moments. His soulmate must be having a busy day. Or they kept forgetting to get the milk. Something.

Four: The crinkle tinkles and that weird song.

And now was reason five: A freaking crystal golem.

Taako put on his winning-est smile and attempted peaceful negotiations.

“Hail and well met. My name’s Taako and you look like you’re made of salt.”

* * *

 

What?

_ What? _

Kravitz, currently riding a construction of local material to protect his body, stared in disbelief at the Elf. He felt his arm itch, and he knew, he just  _ knew, _ that should he be foolish enough to bring his physical form into reality… the words on his arm would have turned gold.

This was his soulmate.

He got close to examine him.

This was also the criminal with eight deaths on his tally. And… an echo of a lich? Something close to him was dead but not gone, and powerful and… elusive.

Taako wasn’t the lich. But he had died eight times.

Kravitz tore himself away from the beautiful, babbling Elf, inspecting his companions.

Burnsides. Seventeen deaths.

And the Dwarf was none other than the third-richest bounty in his books. Merle  _ fuckin’ _ Highchurch. 

It took effort to speak in this body, having to vibrate the crystal at specific frequencies to imitate sound, but this… this was worth it.

“YOU!”

* * *

 

Itch, itch, fuckin’ itch. His soulmate had forgot the milk, the eggs, the oregano, the smokes, the magazine, and very likely the garlic.

Taako vented, using the Glutton’s Fork to stab a particular piece of salt golem and eat it. Fuckin’ delicious. He didn’t even care that it was part of what used to be Merle’s arm.

And then he heard ten words he thought he’d never hear for a majority of his long, long life.

“What the  _ fuck _ is  _ wrong _ with the three of you?”

What?

No!

_ What? _

Absolutely not.

Like fuck was he planning to fuck a fucking  _ salt _ golem.

And if he was going to have a lifelong relationship with anything, it had better contain some gods-damned decent fucking or he was personally going to kick Istus so hard that she’d lose her sight in all directions. Fuck Hubris. He was going to level up so much that he could take on gods and win. And then he’d kick all their asses for letting this bullshit happen at all. Let alone to Taako, the single being with the worst luck of a lifetime.

He’d never caught a break since the day he was born, and now there was  _ this. _ This complete, utter, and undeniable horseshit.

It was enough to keep his mind off the goofs until they got to the central part of the lab. Where that shit of a nerd Lucas had forced contact with the Astral Plane, fished out his dead mom, and upset the natural order of things.

And caught the attention of a genuine hottie. Who spoke with the same voice as the golem.

_ Wait a second… _

Taako started sizing up the reaper with the funny accent. Lovely cheekbones. Perfect skin. Gorgeous.

And then he went all skeletor.

Poopies.

“I must say, if you wanted to lure me in there, you should’a stayed handsome, my fella.”

He had never before seen a skeleton blush. He decided it was a sight worthy of repetition if he could get away with it.


	6. Chapter 6

Somewhere, Kravitz was certain, Istus was laughing. All these criminals, these three lovable doofuses, were gaining a reprieve for assisting in the defeat of Legion. Taako was fearless. Ingenious. And a certain amount of silly that Kravitz found adorable. He even tried to bargain with souls that he and his companions would kill. Despite being told that that was not how things worked.

If he saw Taako again, it would be on duty. And he would be collecting the bounty associated with Taako’s crimes.

And now that they’d met…

The thought of it was that much worse.

Taako, withering away with all the other lost souls. Losing himself bit by infinitesimal bit. Suffering slowly over hundreds to thousands of years. Hating… hurting… failing and furious. Until even that evaporated into nothing.

It was a miracle that he kept a normal facade through all of that.

He’d met his soulmate.

And they would never meet again. Not until Kravitz was due to collect his soul. And that wouldn’t be for a long, long time.

So of course he went to vent to his Queen. He didn’t want to be falling for a criminal, and she did approve of their deal, but his first impression was… not great. And Taako clearly was great. And not the usual necromantic material that got imprisoned in the Eternal Stockade at all and  _ why _ did he have to be so fearless and gorgeous and funny and charismatic and DOOMED?

Istus, knitting her threads as always, spared a soothing hand for his head. “All is not as dire as you think.”

Kravitz couldn’t believe it.

* * *

 

Taako’s eye was caught by the glint of gold.  _ Well. That’s new. _ He was used to his brand changing from black to silver-grey and back again at random, but this time, the beautiful copperplate script was gold.

_ What the fuck is wrong with the three of you? _ had turned gold. The words had been said. By the one who was meant to say them. He ran his hand over the words and felt nothing but his own skin.

His soulmate was  _ Death? _

What the actual fuck?

This was… this was wrong in so many ways. How did reapers even come to be? Some said they were children who’d died, and the Raven Queen raised them the rest of the way as her own. Some said they were those who didn’t have a heaven to believe in before they died. Some said they were the Raven Queen’s actual children, born of relationships with other gods and goddesses. Some said she made them from those sacrificed to her.

Either way you sliced it, the odds were in favour of one hell of an age gap.

Taako found that he was holding his Umbrastaff tight against his chest. He could feel his heart hammering. He could feel a cold sweat trickling down his skin.

This was terrifying.

“What do I do?” he whispered. “How do I even start?”

He had spent most of his life thinking he would be lonely. That he’d never hear the words etched on his left arm. And sometime before  _ Sizzle it Up! With Taako, _ he saw it changing, and heard the theory from… someone…

His head hurt to think about it.

They’d probably only see each other again once. Which was really not fair.

One thing he knew for certain, he would most definitely move heaven and earth to kick Istus’ ass for doing this to the both of them.

How long had Kravitz existed with just blotches on his arm? How fucking painful was that? Taako already wanted to punch Istus once for each day Kravitz had suffered and he still barely knew the guy. He also wanted to punch Istus for every day  _ he _ had suffered as well. Just for good measure.

But mostly he didn’t want to think about it. Or obsess about it. Or worry about it.

All three of those things swarmed his mind whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

 

Now Taako had eleven more deaths on his tally! Something had to be done. On one hand, he got to see this gorgeous Elf again, but on the other…  _ eleven _ deaths! Eleven deaths in eleven hours. It just wasn’t right.

They all swore they wouldn’t do any more dying, and now…

Now Kravitz was waiting in Taako’s suite on the moon. Fussing over how his locs fell and how the beads in his hair looked and how his cloak draped and whether his suit fell right and how he was posed and…

_ This is not a date, _ he reminded himself.  _ This is not a mixer. This is not a pleasant chat with a would-be boyfriend. _

He checked his hair again.

And if he weren’t already dead, he would have shit himself at the sound of the door opening.

Elves could see in the dark. They didn’t need to turn the lights on. Kravitz didn’t need the lights, either, and watched Taako hang up a magic cloak and whisper to it. And then almost jump out of his skin when he noticed Kravitz.

Who swallowed the apology that wanted to leap out of his lips. “Well,” he said instead. “You boys have added quite a bit to your death counts, haven’t you?”

“That one’s… on me,” said Taako. That skirt he wore showed off his legs. Flirted at glimpses of more as he moved. He had style. He had grace. He had a frightening amount of self-deprecation spilling out of his mouth. And somewhere in the diatribe, he started to cry.

It became a tearful babble. Something about Glamour Springs and something about poison and something about a cup…

Kravitz knew it was wrong to hold him, but he held him anyway. It was bad form to comfort a criminal, but he comforted Taako regardless. He forced himself not to gently kiss the dusky skin of Taako’s temples.

“I fucked it up,” Taako sobbed. “I fucked it up so bad, we all died. Again and again and again… And this whole town had been dying every hour of every day for  _ five years… _ And we couldn’t do anything and we didn’t know and I’m so stupid I should’a figured it out and…” he fell into incomprehensible gibberish once more.

Judging by the meaning that Kravitz sifted from Taako’s tearful rambling, this wasn’t his fault at  _ all. _ He needed to talk to his Queen. He needed to at least attempt a civil conversation with Istus.

And after that…

He’d have to talk about this with Taako.

He forced himself to not think of it as a date. “This… doesn’t sound as cut and dried as you say it is,” he said. “You could still get off on a technicality.”

“I prefer to get off with a classy handsome man in my bed,” mumbled Taako. When Kravitz looked, he was smirking.

Kravitz may have lost the battle to appear unimpressed. It was hard to tell. “Perhaps we’d better discuss this at a more amenable time,” he allowed. “I can give you my Stone frequency, and you can let me know when…”  _ You want me, _ sounded far too eager. “When you’re ready.”

A wider smile. Gods, those lips looked kissable. “Sounds like a plan, homie. Just let me give you mine so it’s fair.”

And a few minutes later, he was wandering into the Astral Plane with a stunned expression on his face and wondering how the hell that had all happened. And surprisingly pleased that it had. Or pleasantly surprised. He couldn’t quite tell.

* * *

 

Taako had just enough time to wonder if he’d been stood up when he finally spotted Kravitz in all his ebon glory. He hadn’t even known that fifty shades of black existed, but there they were. He didn’t wear his raven feather cape, but the hints of silver in his costume and hair definitely had a skull motif.

_ And he was already thinking of how all those shades of black would look on his floor, and wondering how that deeply dark skin would feel against his own… _

Taako savoured the look of stunned amazement when Kravitz saw him, then gestured him over. If things didn’t go so well, plan B was definitely  _ seduce Death itself, _ and that plan was looking like it could go ahead even if things  _ did _ go well. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a decent date.

And a part of his brain was going,  _ Close to the heart! Life match! Life match! _

What would that even be  _ like? _

He couldn’t picture it. He couldn’t imagine this man in pyjamas. Or in very little else but that gloriously dark skin. He couldn’t picture Kravitz sleep-rumpled and drooling on a pillow.

Did reapers even sleep?

Business first, pleasure later. He wound up babbling about bowls and edge cases and how normalcy couldn’t be expected from people like him. And, because he thought he was losing his audience, Taako attempted a little close contact and clay play.

YEESH but those hands were cold. How the fuck could he make love to a walking ice cube?

All in all… it could have gone worse, he supposed.

Kravitz was smiling. He had beautiful teeth. Amazing eyes. He was so… the opposite of grim. Even with the cold clammy hands, Taako could picture having some fun warming him up.

And he was so cute when he blushed.

He almost got a taste of those plump, succulent lips…

But of course it had to go to shit.

Kravitz went skeletor and looked around as if he were looking for something. “There's something here. There's something here, Taako, it was—”   


“I feel it too!” Gods. What was it about that transformation that felt like home? The desire to reach out for him was almost worn into his bones.   


“It was— no, not this, the— there's something here, it was in the Millers’ lab too, I could feel it. It's dead and it's powerful and it's extremely close. Are you harboring a dark spirit, Taako? Do you— do you have suspicions that you might be some sort of vessel?”   


What? No! And he was so close. Back to business. He racked his brain, but all he could think of was, “Maybe? I mean, it's been, like, a few years. Was that a thing for a while? I eat old dead dudes with my umbrella, is that a possibility, maybe?”   


He seemed… almost disappointed. “I don't— no, I don't think it's that.”

And to put the garnish on this shit sandwich, his fucking  _ umbrella _ tried to kill Kravitz. If he wasn’t so shocked and knocked on his ass from the recoil, he’d want to weep.

After all this time. After all those tears. Hadn’t he at least earned half a shot at happiness?

But no. Ruined by a magical umbrella with a mind of its own.

So he did what he always did to fuck things up. He got awkward, and babbled, and infodumped, and… just… kept flapping his mouth and being his usual idiot self and…

Somehow…

Kravitz wanted to see him again.

But it was all up in the air and he was somehow obsessed with his inventory somehow harbouring a lich. Like mockingbird gum could possibly hold a cursed soul!

And the next thing he knew, he was alone, on the grassy sward of the Bureau quad, looking at all of his things like it was a kit inspection and…

_ What the fuck was he even doing? _

He’d flaked out during his first date in -gods- it felt like a hundred years or more. It’d be a miracle if Kravitz even wanted to check in on him again.

He gathered his shit back up and dragged himself back to his current residence. Thinking of it as ‘home’ would bring on the curse. Homes got destroyed, disrupted, disintegrated. He’d been kicked out of too many places he’d dared to think of as ‘home’.

And this job wouldn’t have much lasting power if they kept on at the rate they were going. What was it? One relic left? Two? Then he’d be unemployed with references that nobody could understand. Great going, dipshit.

On the other hand… if he could hang onto some coin, he could plausibly have something like a nest egg. Maybe start a restaurant. Own a little bakery somewhere.

Psh. Yeah. Right. He knew he’d just blow whatever severance pay he earned on the next batch of shiny shit and be right back where he started.

Taako fell onto his bed and pulled off his heels, staring at his reflection in the full-body mirror he’d set up to be certain of his look. Watching himself do it, he unlaced his shirt and pulled it off. The golden words gleamed in the dark. He ran a hand over them again.

“Those are his words,” he said, more to remind himself. “I thought I’d never hear them, but there they are. He said them. To me. I… have… a life match. With the Grim Reaper.”

The Umbrastaff, tossed negligently on his bed, rolled so that it nudged his leg. Taako picked it up and glared at its handle.

“And  _ you _ almost incinerated him. What the fuck?” He shook it, wishing it had a neck so he could throttle it. “My one and only chance and you decide to go overboard with the flame?”

Fuck. He had clay on his cheek. And his hair was a mess. It had been curling with little stresses and uncurling when he had his guard down and now it looked like a home for a flock of extremely messy birds.

“I’m a fucking mess,” he said. “A gods-damned train wreck. I’m selfish and vain and callous and cold on the inside and he’s… none of that. How’s it supposed to work? What did I do? What do I do? Just…  _ How?” _

His stone went off and nearly scared the shit out of him. Taako went scrambling for it, digging it out of the pocket in his shirt. “Yes! I’m here!”

Kravitz’s voice. “Hey. Um. I… just… wanted to check that you’re okay.”

That was so sweet that Taako could just  _ die. _ He cleared his throat. “Sure thing, homie,” he breezed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You did seem a little out of it when I said goodbye. Uh. Um. So. How do you feel about… music?”

This was awkward. And embarrassing. And slightly uncomfortable. And he wouldn’t miss a second of it for all the world. “I can listen to it,” he allowed.

“It’s just… there’s this concert and. Um. They’re playing one of my favourite concertos? And there’s this lovely little bistro across the way for after... Uh, I don’t… usually… eat… but I could keep you company?”

It was official. Kravitz was adorkable. Taako was totally lost on him. “Company’s always a win, my dude.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Offensensitivity Warning: Lup experiencing angst in the Umbrastaff

_ Taako, I’m so sorry. _ Lup couldn’t exactly talk. Not in this curtained hell. What passed for her voice were her thoughts. Her body was her imagination. She clung to herself because it was all she had. And with Taako… it was easier.

He was her heart.

Her strength.

Her… everything.

They’d been born holding hands and she had kicked up a stink for the forty-five minutes that had separated them. They had been together for a majority of their lives and every instant apart was an eternity of torment.

Especially now.

She had initially expected Taako to recognise her bones. To know her Umbrastaff. But it had been clear in less than a minute that something had interfered with his noggin. How could he possibly forget his  _ twin sister? _ But he had.

And now he’d found his match.

With just as much panic about it as she had experienced with Barry.

Her first actual date with the man had gone over just as well, she recalled. She’d come back to their quarters on the Starblaster in a blind panic about how badly she’d screwed this up and her hair was a mess and she had been so fucking  _ stupid _ out loud and it was a wreck! A fucking train wreck. Her entire life was a disaster.

Taako had wrapped her up in a fluffy blanket, his arms around her, and swayed with her and purred in her ear like she’d just been having a nightmare. She’d raged and fought at the time because her baby brother had no business doing the thing she did to him when he panicked about whatever… but she eventually succumbed.

And when she quieted, he murmured, “Lulu. Where are your marks?”

“Close to my heart.”

“And where are his marks?”

“Close to his heart.”

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

A breath. A sigh. “Life match.”

Taako echoed her words. “A life match. That means you’re stuck with him and he’s stuck with you. Just like we’re all stuck with each other on this ship of madness until we find a way to beat Jonny Voresalot once and for all.” He released her, then. Landing a rare kiss on her brow. Looked her in the eyes and said, “No matter how badly you think you’ve fucked up… it’s already better than dead. M’kay?”

“You and your fucking trump card,” she grumbled. But it worked. As did the fluffy blanket and all that other shit.

And now… with her brother in the exact same panic attack… She had no arms to hold him. She had no breath to purr. She had no way to speak to him, and only limited control over her own fucking Umbrastaff.

_ Your marks are close to your heart, Taako, _ she thought.  _ You know what that means. Life matches don’t end because your fucking hair is a mess. _

She grabbed hold of the curtains, because she couldn’t hold anything else. Wished to heaven and hell alike that she could be outside and  _ with _ him. To have a body so she could wrap him up and purr in his ear and calm him down like he had done for her so many years ago.

She wanted so hard to return that favour.

But he was out there.

She was stuck in here.

But she could hold the curtains while he held her umbrella. And pretend that they were holding each other. And pretend that that was okay. And pretend that she wasn’t going slowly insane in this prison.

She had to get the message out. Show  _ someone _ that she was trapped in here.

Lucretia!

Lucretia was running this place. Sure, she looked like fucking hell on a stick and something bad had happened to her along the way. But she wouldn’t have fallen under Fisher’s influence. She remembered things that Fisher obfuscated.

She could help.

She  _ could _ help.

Couldn’t she?

Lup fretted over the message to send. It had to be brief. Really brief. It had to be understood. Clearly. It had to be something that wouldn’t be obfuscated by Fisher. Something lasting. Something flashy and noticeable.

Hell. She could definitely  _ do _ flashy and noticeable.

Two-foot-tall letters of fire. Blasted into a wall. A Bureau wall. So that nobody could miss it and everybody would talk about it.

Lup began meditating. Gathering her power.

What a lovely co-incidence that S.O.S. and ‘Lup’ contained three letters.

That’s about all she’d have the juice for.


	8. Chapter 8

Damnit. Life was so completely not fair. He’d spent a majority of his life believing he’d never have a meaningful relationship, suddenly sussed that he was going to have something with an extraplanar identity,  _ met _ him at fucking last, only to be literally on his Kill List, and finally freaked out over how horrendously awkward their first date was.

And just when he was actually starting to believe he had a slight chance at a happy life with someone…

Those  _ fucking _ liches had to fuck everything else up. They’d ruined his look. They’d ruined his health. Shit, he wasn’t even pretending to have fun any more. They’d ruined Magnus, and if he could find a way to blame them for what was going on through the portal in the Astral Plane, he would.

In brief, he had had e-fucking-nough.

They wanted to play rough? Taako could play rough. He could play so rough that he nearly fucking  _ died _ , that’s how rough he could play.

Somewhere in the dim edges of his senses, he felt the Umbrastaff devour something. Which meant that a lich had lost. He summoned what little energy he had left for three words.

“Liches… get… stitches…”

And then all was darkness until the other two brought him back from the brink.

He couldn’t think about how the other one destroyed herself. Couldn’t think about how they had a red-robed lich on their side. His mind was stuck on Kravitz. Trapped in tar. And about how he couldn’t do a thing about it until they’d saved the world. This planar system.

A storm was coming.

And because his soulmate was in danger from it, he was going to kick its fucking ass.

* * *

 

Kravitz was weary, terrified, and pissed off. Separated from his soulmate by force, dominated by some weird alien ooze that polluted his Queens realm, and worst of all, they had ruined his suit.

The cads.

More worrying than that, the Raven Queen did not answer his call. There was not even a sign that she was still there. No signal that she was busy. No echo of her presence. His Goddess/employer was just… not there any more.

He had tried to enter the Prime Material Plane with no success. He tried to use his stone of farspeech with no success. He had tried to contact his Goddess with no success. And any peek outside of the Eternal Stockade earned him the sick sensation of dread as the black, inky ooze of the invading pollution seemed to be growing.

These were truly desperate times.

Which meant that he required some desperate measures.

He summoned his long-disused bardic skills, rolled a persuasion check, and spoke to the prisoners.

“Listen. I’m well aware that none of you like where you are, that you don’t like me and I have little reason to like you. Some of you have seen what’s happening outside this stronghold. Some of you may not care. Those who do… I am prepared to entreat the Raven Queen herself for some leniency on your sentences.  _ If _ you help me get rid of whatever the fuck that black goo is out there. Many of you have fought for lives unfairly ended, and I can tell you that that shit out there is the unfairest ending of all. I’ve been in it. I fought to keep my self whole as it tried and failed to conquer me. I  _ know _ it is the worst evil any creature has ever encountered. Worse than any of you.” He checked the mood of the audience. They were angry, of course. But their anger was not directed at him or any other Reaper. For a change. “Together, we can fight this thing and have a chance of winning. Who’s with me?”

He rolled a natural twenty.

A billion captive souls roared in approval.

Unauthorised, unwarranted, untold… Kravitz released all the captive souls.

And Legion crawled out of the Eternal Stockade with a license to wreak havok.

Kravitz manifested his scythe and mowed down as many inky arms as he could. Somewhere in that torpid, tar-like mess were other Reapers. There had to be. They couldn’t  _ all _ have fallen for the siren song of nihilism incarnate. There should at least be  _ some _ who were fighting to keep intact, resisting the lure of hubris and spite.

He caught one Reaper out of the mess. Two. Three. Some minor ones. Some escorts who saw the confused dead across to the other side. Some full Reapers like himself. Though they may be of lower rank, they were already willing to fight.

One by one, he dragged an army out of the tar. One by one, they did likewise.

The Hunger had never had a harder battle to absorb the Afterlife.

Even if the world was gone, Kravitz was determined to fight until the end for whatever was left.

He lost track of time. Fighting with the others. Fighting for the others. More than once, a tarry hand grabbed him and attempted to pull him down into it again. More than once, they succeeded. And more than once, his growing army managed to help him fight free.

Every time he was under, he heard  _ them. _ The voices of bitterness. The song of disappointment. The wheedling insistence of jealousy.

_ What’s the point of fighting? We will only drag you back down again. Give up. You know existence is never fair. Your goddess won’t even talk to you. How fucked up is that? We will get you everything you want. We will help you grow mightier than the gods who made the gods. We will help you… Just fear us, love us, do as we say and we will be your slaves… _

And Kravitz would think of the golden words on his arm, and rise up, buoyed by his growing love.  _ I want access to my soulmate back, you sons of bitches. _

He had more than just himself and his job and his world to fight for, though each was a significant factor. He wanted to hold Taako again. One last time or for the rest of their shared existence. He had a life match. He was going to make fucking sure he had a life to be with them in.

The advantage of being dead, and being a Reaper, is that one has no awareness of becoming tired. The muscles no longer flag because they are not real muscles. The body does not tire because it is not a real body. The Raven Queen allowed her Reapers to keep their bones and Kravitz’s creak with repetitive movement. But otherwise, he is not aware of the passage of time.

His Goddess is gone. Taako may well be gone, too. His home plane is in the process of going.

But fuck everything if they think he’s going down without a fight.

And then, seemingly without any kind of precedent… light.

A green light and a blue light and a song.

And  _ one hundred years _ of Taako and six others - bounties all - fighting and fleeing and striving to save the larger multiverse from a force so immense and incomprehensible that it was a definite article. The Hunger.

Now he knew what he was fighting. Now  _ everyone _ knew what they were fighting. The forces of nihilistic disappointment and greed made ooey, gooey flesh.

Taako had been fighting it for a hundred years.

Kravitz, deeper in love with him than ever before, renewed his battle with vigor.

And then  _ another _ weird light whisked him away into the Prime Material Plane.

It was still there.

_ Taako _ was still there. Battered and bruised and travel-worn and he had just transmuted the black glass remains of Phandalin into pure sapphire. Summoned Kravitz and the ghostly echoes of the city that once was into reality.

So of course the first thing to pass his lips was, “How… how did you  _ do _ that?”

Taako stood up, and started running as best he could across the flawless gemstone. Kiss storm incoming.

Kravitz could feel the fires of love warming up his chest, but they hadn’t got to his skin, yet. He urgently started breathing into his hands, desperately warming himself. Desperately trying to warm up before Taako collided with him in a frenzy of gratitude and gratuitous PDA’s.

He didn’t quite make it. “Hold on, I--” he fended Taako off. “I wanna--” he  _ really _ had to fend Taako off. “I wanna warm up my face. I don’t want it to be cold and weird.”

As he took the most important person into his arms, he couldn’t think of anything else. Those lips tasted so good. That man smelled so nice.

Taako was real. He was alive. He had a  _ sister _ who happened to be a  _ lich. _ She was the one in the Umbrastaff. She’d been trapped there for twelve years, maybe longer. And she was somehow still stable and in control. And remarkably chipper about everything.

Including actually  _ meeting _ the Grim Reaper face to alleged face.

He couldn’t say,  _ Your sister is breaking laws I’m sworn to uphold. _ But he could say, “You… know we have to talk about the fact that your sister’s a lich, right?”

“Oh yeah, I assumed.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Offensensitivity Warning: It's over!

There had never been a harder battle. There had never been a bigger victory party. The whole world, nay, the entire planar system had taken on the forces of spite, jealousy, and bitterness. And they had won.

Johann had been right.

And now, thanks to Fisher and their child, the whole world would never forget him.

Kravitz, well aware that he was in his mortal form on overtime, faded towards an unobtrusive corner as he watched Taako and his sister cook together for the hungry hordes as if they had never been separated. Lup had to use magic for everything, but that didn’t slow her down by a second.

They were a perfectly co-ordinated team.

Taako… didn’t need anyone else. Not any more.

Kravitz had thought he adored Taako before the Day of Story and Song. He thought he loved every facet of this strange and curious Elf. But now? Taako was  _ whole. _ He’d reunited with the other half of himself and he was truly glorious.

“Don’t you dare fade out of his life,” said a voice at his side. It was Barry Bluejeans. Who was holding a platter of finger foods for some inexplicable reason.

Kravitz took one to be polite. Quickly forming the necessary parts of a living body so that he could enjoy it. It was a Taako original. Of fucking course he would enjoy it. “How did you know I was…?”

“I thought the exact same thing for over fifty fucking years,” said Barry. “They’re a team. Practically symbiotic. They don’t need some nerd barging into that kind of harmony.”

Heedless of Barry’s words, Lup stole some garlic away from Taako’s prepped ingredients. While Taako hid the hot sauce from Lup’s immediate view. Harmony. Right.

“They’ve been relying on each other their entire lives,” said Barry. “They know that. But they can also fend for themselves. They don’t… They need love as well, you know?”

“He’s got it from the entire world,” said Kravitz. And he’d love it. Taako would bathe in fame and revel in the luxury. He wouldn’t bother expending the energy it would take to look back.

“Yeah, but he hasn’t got someone who’ll love him even when he has those three AM ever-wonder sessions. Or is willing to let him lecture them about how to make a hot chocolate when he wakes up in the middle of the night with bad dreams. Or will just hold him when he’s sobbing miserable about something that broke his heart.”

Kravitz contemplated those examples and thought,  _ Yes. All of it. Sad times, and happy ones. In anger and joy and sickness and health and… Everything. I want to share his everything. _

“He’ll let you,” said Barry, repeating his impression of a telepath once more. “You two are soul mates. He’s not gonna give up on that in a hurry.”

Kravitz took half a step towards the open kitchen they’d made out of some wreckage from the battle. And then baulked out of pure abject terror. “What if--”

“Just go ask if there’s something you can do to help. They won’t bite you.” Barry grinned. “Unless you ask nicely.”

Kravitz almost self-immolated from mortification. But he did head towards the kludge kitchen if only because it got him away from pasty-faced, chubster, nerdlord Barry’s  _ leering. _

...then again, this was the man who was soulmates with the force of nature known as Lup. Something of her had had to become part of him.

As Kravitz convinced his leaden feet to take him closer, he wondered what parts of Taako would become  _ his _ second nature. What parts of him would invade and imbue themselves into Taako?

It was exciting and terrifying and wonderful, all at the same time, to ponder that.

His heart beat whenever he considered his soulmate, that was true, but it was in his mouth when he worked his way into the kludge kitchen.

He barely stammered out, “Is there something I can--” before Taako shoved a spoon in one hand and a bowl in the other.

“Sure thing m’dude. Keep this emulsified while I fix up the Lup-ocalypse.”

“E- emulse?”

“Keep stirring, darling.”

Darling. Wow.

“Excuse  _ your _ ass, bro-bro,” Lup objected, “Everything is fucking  _ fine.” _

“You set the oven on fire, sister-dear.”

“It was broken before I got to it, babe.”

Kravitz kept stirring, completely unaware of the goopy-in-love smile on his face. Whatever world they made together, it was theirs. He felt privileged to be a part of it. For  _ all _ of the days they shared.

 

END!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and staying with me through this thing. Turns out that some clichés just make people happy and I'm loving that fact.
> 
> Plot Kittens happening during the writing of this thing: 4, counting the one whump fic that possessed me and is ruining my life currently  
> Excerpts that temporarily possessed me: 1 [big thanks and kudos to Icelandic_Flutterby, I owe you a fic gift]
> 
> I'm not done with the next fic yet, check up with my Hub site internutter.org for updates on what I'm doing and what passes for my life, as well as how to support this artist in having nice things.
> 
> And if you want to adopt a plot kitten, I have plenty here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BjGBO71GuvFf4N_D3MfmvHH5xXfCWzHmPXIdOz1j_Eo/edit?usp=sharing
> 
> You can also comment on them and encourage me in the ficcing of all.


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